


Conditional Christmas

by Rhaized



Series: The Madonna and Baby [8]
Category: His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, The Golden Compass (2007)
Genre: Christmas Morning, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Gosh her parenting is not exactly ideal, Merry Christmas, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Mrs. Coulter has some baggage clearly, Opening Presents, but she is trying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:29:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28289958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhaized/pseuds/Rhaized
Summary: Lyra's first Christmas with Mrs. Coulter greets her with more presents than she can possibly know what to do with, although Mrs. Coulter has some strange rituals attached to opening presents.
Relationships: Lyra Belacqua & Marisa Coulter
Series: The Madonna and Baby [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1998481
Comments: 5
Kudos: 46





	Conditional Christmas

When Lyra woke up on Christmas morning, still sleepy-eyed after spending most of the night restlessly chatting with Pan about the next day's activities, she could hardly believe her eyes. 

"Look at all these _presents!"_ she exclaimed, mouth dropping and Pan charging into the air as a tiger cub. Arranged craftily around the Christmas tree were rows and rows of presents. They were big and small, narrow and wide; tall and short, oblong and rectangular. It was like a mountain, almost, of gifts swathed in the silkiest of greens and the most velvety of reds. Lyra wasn't certain that she'd ever _seen_ presents wrapped up so beautifully as they were under Mrs. Coulter’s giant tree.

"Merry Christmas, darling," said Mrs. Coulter from her spot on the sofa. She was still dressed in her pajamas—a striking green nightgown that practically shimmered from the dim lighting of the Christmas tree. Lyra drifted over to her sheepishly, her eyes still glued to the presents under the tree. Once she reached the sofa, Lyra hesitated and then launched herself into Mrs. Coulter's arms. The woman let out a puff of surprise and then laughed, embracing Lyra warmly and pecking her forehead with a quick kiss. 

"Who are all those presents for?" Lyra asked her as she settled down beside her. Pan sat with the golden monkey on the back of the sofa, sitting politely and regally as a young raven. 

"Why, for you, of course."

"For me?" Lyra breathed, shifting in her seat to gawk at the woman. Their knees brushed now and Mrs. Coulter's eyes were glittering with amusement. "All of them?" 

"Yes, Lyra," Mrs. Coulter said softly, bending to tuck a strand of hair behind Lyra's ear and then slowly caress her cheek. Lyra simply stared, feeling her lips widen into a smile that she simply couldn't contain.

“No one’s ever given me presents like this before,” Lyra mused aloud, craning her head back to look at all the presents. Part of her worried that she was dreaming, and that if she looked away for too long they’d all disappear.

“What do you mean?” Mrs. Coulter asked, her hand pausing.

“Well, whenever my uncle brought me presents, he never bothered to wrap them,” Lyra explained, turning back to the woman. Pan let out a little squawk. “And the Scholars were always too busy to give me anythin’.”

Mrs. Coulter’s eyes hardened at that as she resumed her gentle caress, moving her hand to comb through Lyra’s knotted bed hair. She seemed upset, almost, and Pan was certain that he’d heard the monkey growl and saw him clench his little fists. 

“This is quite your year, then,” Mrs. Coulter said after a while, eyes softening again as she offered Lyra a small smile. "I've been looking forward to spoiling you. You deserve only the best of things, Lyra."

Lyra smiled back, feeling her heart flutter. No one had ever said anything like that to her.

Before Lyra could open her presents, Mrs. Coulter wanted to prepare a quick snack for them. Lyra followed her like a puppy into the kitchen, looking back at her presents until they vanished out of sight. Mrs. Coulter made light, pretty conversation about snow and Christmas songs as she heated some milk on the stove and brought out some chocolatl mix.

“This is my favorite Christmas drink,” Mrs. Coulter explained as she handed Lyra a mug and then picked up her own along with a small plate of cookies. “I put some peppermints in there, too. To spruce up the flavor.”

Indeed it was _delicious_ as Lyra sucked at it greedily on their way back over to the living room. They didn’t often (or, rather, _ever)_ eat in the living room, but Christmas was special, Mrs. Coulter said. She moved over one of the end tables so that they could rest their drinks on it. Mrs. Coulter then turned over to the tree.

“Are you ready to open your presents now, Lyra?”

_“Yes!”_ Lyra exclaimed, practically jumping off the sofa with Pan in her wake in his favorite ermine form. Lyra scooted herself closer to the mound of presents, her eyes caught by a particularly big box with a bright green bow on it.

Just as her hand reached out for it, however, Mrs. Coulter tutted.

“Not yet, Lyra,” she said, and Lyra stopped, turning to look over at her. “How about we play a little _game_ before you open them?”

“What kind of game?” Lyra asked, her tone crossed somewhere between curious and impatient. She _really_ wanted to open them, and it felt cruel for Mrs. Coulter to let her get so close and then to hold her back.

_Stop being so impatient,_ Pan thought to her, sitting down and peeking his head up. _We’ll open them soon enough._

He was right, Lyra knew, so she sighed lightly before nodding and turning around so that she was facing Mrs. Coulter, sitting with her legs crossed and her head leaning in her hands.

“Before you open a present, you have to guess what it is,” Mrs. Coulter said simply. She was still sitting on the sofa, which was a few feet away from the tree.

“Okay,” Lyra said, smiling again. That was easy! Lyra had _already_ been guessing what all the gifts would be. This was nothing.

“And the trick is: you can’t open the gift until you correctly guess.”

Pan’s head whipped up at that, his little ear flicking as he looked at Mrs. Coulter. Lyra exchanged a quick glance with him, too, wondering if she heard her right.

_That seems strange,_ Pan thought to her. _D’you think Christmas normally works like this?_

_I dunno,_ she returned, and she didn’t. How could she know, when she’d lived as an orphan her entire life? She didn’t _think_ opening presents was inherently conditional in that way, but she couldn’t be sure. All she could do was nod and then turn back to the presents.

“I think this one,” Lyra said, reaching out and pulling the big green box closer to her, “is...a _sled!”_

“No,” said Mrs. Coulter, her voice light and amused. Lyra looked up and saw her smirking. “That’s too big to fit in a box, Lyra. Try again.”

What could be in there, Lyra wondered? Now that she thought about it, a box could contain practically anything. This would be hard to guess, if not impossible. How was she supposed to know?

“Books,” Lyra blurted out.

“No.”

“A television set?”

“No.”

“A….chair?”

_“Lyra.”_

“I give up.” Lyra let out a frustrated sigh as she looked at the box once more, frowning intensely at it. She had absolutely no idea. How could she, when she barely even understood the ways of Mrs. Coulter’s fancy world? Lyra felt like there were a million different things Mrs. Coulter would be able to give her and that she would never, _ever_ be able to guess. Pan felt her frustration and changed into a pole cat to come and comfort her, rubbing his head against her knee and letting out a purr.

“That’s no way to do it.” Mrs. Coulter got up from the sofa and came over to Lyra, settling herself down on the carpet beside her. She reached over toward the box and picked it up. “You’re not trying hard enough. _Examine_ it.”

She then handed the box over to Lyra, who took it and noticed how extraordinary light it was. At an encouraging nod from Mrs. Coulter, Lyra gave it a quick shake. Nothing rattled.

“What does that tell you, then?” Mrs. Coulter pressed. 

“That it’s...not something heavy,” Lyra offered, _still_ feeling increasingly frustrated. “How am I supposed to know? I have no idea.”

“Well, I guess you’re not opening this one, then.” Mrs. Coulter’s eyes hardened as she took the present back and set it off to the side. Lyra gaped at her, eyes following the movement.

“You’re serious?”

“Completely serious.”

“But you...You said they were all mine!” 

“Only if you could guess what they were first.”

This must be a joke. Lyra turned to glare at Mrs. Coulter fiercely then, searching her eyes and her face for any indication that she was teasing Lyra or playing games with her the way Uncle Asriel sometimes had. But Lyra saw no indications. Mrs. Coulter’s jaw was tense. Her eyes were cold, as they’d been whenever Lyra asked her if she knew anything about Roger or about her parents or anything to do with her personal life. This wasn’t some kind of game.

“Let’s try another one, shall we?” Mrs. Coulter said after a few more beats. She smiled but her eyes were still flicked with a certain essence of iciness. “This one should be easier. Give it a feel.”

“A dress,” Lyra muttered flatly, sensing that the box was light and hearing something that was likely materials shifting around lightly.

“Yes! Now, open it up.”

This wasn’t very fun, Lyra decided as she tore apart the white ribbon and ripped apart the red wrapping paper to reveal indeed a clothing box from the store. She took off the cover and held up a powder blue dress with frilly sleeves and a swirly helm. Mrs. Coulter urged her to hold the dress up against her. She then told Lyra to stand up with it, and Mrs. Coulter rose to her knees and held down the bottom of the dress, seeing how it lined up with Lyra’s torso.

“It’ll look so lovely on you,” Mrs. Coulter practically sang, her eyes back to exuding joy. “Do you like it?”

“Yes,” said Lyra, although she couldn’t really feel happy in this moment as Mrs. Coulter practically cooed before handing her more presents to open. Lyra quickly learned to think more carefully about the kinds of presents Mrs. Coulter herself would like, which was mostly clothing and jewelry and books and even a bit of makeup. It sometimes took several guesses, and Lyra would beg to try another gift before coming back to the ones that stumped her, but she eventually made her way through most of it, although there were still several she couldn’t guess.

“We’ll worry about those later,” Mrs. Coulter said dismissively as she opened up a garbage bag and began tossing the wrapping paper into it. “Help me with this, won’t you dear?”

_This still feels strange,_ Lyra thought to Pan as she got on her hands and knees and fished around for each and every piece of wrapping paper. He helped, too, picking up ribbons with his little cat teeth and crawling to the spaces Lyra couldn’t easily reach.

_It’s better than no presents at all, though,_ he tried to offer. _Plus we’ll have a fancy lunch and fancy dinner, and we’ll still have time to guess what the rest are._

Lyra supposed that was fine. She came back from under the tree and dumped the wrapping paper into the bag, avoiding Mrs. Coulter’s eyes.

“What’s the matter, darling?” the woman asked. She was quite astute, Lyra couldn’t help but notice. She didn’t _want_ to flaunt her feelings but it appeared she didn’t have a choice but to address it.

“It feels...weird, to not be able to open presents unless I guess them,” Lyra told her quietly, still not looking at her. She couldn’t see Mrs. Coulter, but she felt the energy in the room shift and Mrs. Coulter stiffen.

“Are you being _ungrateful,_ Lyra?” Mrs. Coulter asked then, her voice low but terse.

“No!” Lyra whirled around to look at her fully, hoping the woman could see the earnestness in her face. “Not at all! Thank you so much, Mrs. Coulter. I really appreciate everythin’. You was so nice and generous.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.” Mrs. Coulter grabbed the last bit of wrapping paper and then stood up, moving so quickly she left a rush of air as she breezed by Lyra.

“Mrs. Coulter!” Lyra called, getting up herself and scrambling over to her. “I’m sorry! Oh, I didn’t mean it!”

The woman had sat back down moodily on the sofa and Lyra followed her. After just the briefest moment of hesitation, she moved to crawl into Mrs. Coulter’s lap, looking up at her again. Pan approached the golden monkey carefully, his ears flattened and his body dropped to a low, innocent crouch.

“I know, dear,” Mrs. Coulter let out after a while, and then she moved to hold Lyra in her arms. She tucked Lyra’s head onto her chest and then rocked her lightly like she was a baby. It was perhaps a bit juvenile for someone of Lyra’s age, but she didn’t mind. She sank into the woman’s embrace willingly, snaking her arms up to wrap them around Mrs. Coulter’s neck. She couldn't ever remember being held like this before. It was nice. Lyra closed her eyes, trying to savor it.

“That’s the way we opened presents at my house growing up, you know,” Mrs. Coulter said after several minutes. She was still rocking Lyra. All of the tension and the frustration and the hurt vanished as Lyra sat there in her arms, almost in a trance.

“You did?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Coulter whispered, and her voice sounded a bit unsure now, as if she were doubting something. “I just...I wanted to give to you what I had. Lots of gifts. But...we had to guess.”

Lyra felt softer now. She sensed Pan’s curiosity as well as her own tenderness as she lifted her head up to gaze at Mrs. Coulter. “Thank you for sharing it with me, and thank you for everything. This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

Something unreadable crossed Mrs. Coulter’s face then as Lyra said that to her. Her hands, which were crossed behind Lyra’s back, stiffened and then relaxed. Her eyes glistened, too, before all of her features softened once more. “Merry Christmas, Lyra.”

**Author's Note:**

> My friend sent me a reddit post where someone explained their parents wouldn't let them open their Christmas presents until they guessed correctly and we IMMEDIATELY thought this would be SUCH a Marisa thing to do. Thus, I just had to write this fic. Merry Christmas!


End file.
